


In Apricot Sunlight

by RainbowPools



Category: Cardfight!! Vanguard
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26115421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowPools/pseuds/RainbowPools
Summary: Luard’s having a bad day. Morfessa doesn’t mind offering her council.
Relationships: Dragwizard Morfessa/Luard
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	In Apricot Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y’all! :)  
> How are you doing? Had a desperate need to write something dragwizardcentric and realized I was the only Luard lover without a Luard story. So that worked out hand and hand. In other news, my shift key and my vision assistance program are not getting along with me so that’s a thing. I still hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> Warning: My card lore knowledge is somewhat limited.

Morfessa never appreciated this fondness she had for Luard. Beyond her cardinal preference for keeping to herself, she had much to envy Luard for. After all he had accomplished the Dragshift with little to no side effects while she herself had yet to come close, and her body was left in a state of such abhorrence she hadn’t the will or even desire to show it anymore. Luard had suffered it was true, but he had also screwed up and caused many people pain because of it. He was dangerous too, mainly whenever he threw a tantrum. And perhaps that’s why Morfessa enjoyed him. He was quite like a child, something that even after all these years, warranted looking after and protection, and love. Morfessa didn’t think she was the woman to give him any of those things. However, there was a warmth that pooled in her stomach from interacting with the boy that she always had trouble dismissing. On this occasion she took notice that Luard was spending too much time in his lab room, and found herself stalking the halls of her castle to locate him. He needed to get out of the house and into sunlight if he were to keep that healthy pallor of his, the flicker in his light rosy eyes. 

When she arrived in his office, of sorts, she found he was knelt on the floor, a big pile of dark cloth, cleaning up something he had spilled. The substance looked to be some sort of chemical that was used more for examination than literal experiment. That was odd. Luard was clumsy. He tended to bump into things and trip a lot, often do to that ridiculous hat obstructing his vision, but he was never careless. He had yet to actually spill anything, so this was a first. Morfessa pressed her lips into a line and walked inside, not bothering to close the door behind her. “What are you doing Luard?” she asked in her flat, matter-a-fact way of speech, approaching him. 

“Oh...” Luard’s head shot up, his neck craned as he peered, wide-eyed at her. His expression was frozen with shock, and was that a tinge of pink to the tips of those elven ears? 

“I startled you?” Morfessa raised an eyebrow at his peculiar face. 

“Uum, yes, sorry. I didn’t hear you come in,” Luard was just the slightest bit frantic. 

“Really?” Morfessa tapped her heel. Her boots weren’t the quietest, though she had a tendency to move with the silent elegance of a cat. That hardly mattered though. Luard’s absurd paranoia had his senses on the alert twenty-four-seven. In addition, the door had an ancient creek to it whenever one tried to force it open. Luard seemed to understand his behavior was abnormal, as he averted his eyes, instead surveying the progress he’d made on cleaning his accident. He had done good. 

“Is your newest experiment **that** consuming?” Morfessa asked. Her third question. She was ready for some answers. 

“Not exactly,” Luard fidgeted. Morfessa was an incredible woman. How she managed to fluster him just by being herself he hadn’t the faintest clue. To say he had amorous feelings for her would be a stretch, too, so it really was a magic of her own design.

“I take it you’ve had a breakthrough?” Morfessa asked. Even after achieving a full dragon form, Luard continued researching the mechanics of the Dragshift magic. He was too hungry for knowledge for his own good, though Morfessa didn’t fault him for that, especially where Dragshift was concerned. After all, the art effected everyone differently. What methods worked for Luard would not help Morfessa achieve the same feat, and that’s what truly intrigued her about the practice. 

“Not precisely,” Luard said finally, giving this awkward little smile. 

“Luard,” Morfessa’s octave dropped and hardened, “I hope you understand that dragshift science isn’t exactly a place for mistakes. You could get someone hurt like that, including yourself.” 

“S-sorry, I’ve been distracted,” Luard got to his feet. He wasn’t a great deal taller than Morfessa, and her heels made it easy for her to glare him in the eye, which he would admit only to himself, bit at his pride. That was extraneous to the matter at hand however. 

“Perhaps you shouldn’t conduct research while you’re distracted,” Morfessa said. Luard chewed his bottom lip. And see that was the problem. The research was _supposed_ to be the distraction, but the thoughts, which had been haunting him since the night before, had yet to subside. Luard had a habit of pushing things down, his past, his emotions, his smile, and waiting for them to stop pestering him so he could carry on with life without having to confront the consequences of those concepts. However, his routine wasn’t quite going to plan. He hadn’t gotten to sleep much last night, and even now his destructive ideologies were still eating at him. 

“Are you cross with me?” Luard asked. 

“I may be if I don’t receive a plausible reason for your absentmindedness,” Morfessa sniffed. She knew she was likely being hard on him, but the last thing she wanted was for something dreadful to happen to him because his head wasn’t in it. 

“Sorry.. I’ll stop,” Luard said, and crossed the room in a couple strides to clean up his supplies. Theoretically that would’ve been enough to satisfy her, but she wanted to know what was distracting the boy, what was bothering him. 

“So, what’s distracting you?” she asked, coming up beside him and helping him clean up. Luard flinched, though whether that was because of her question or the fact that she was near him was anyone’s guess. 

“It’s not important,” Luard mumbled. 

“Doesn’t matter, I’m still asking,” Morfessa said. 

“I have no interest in talking about it,” Luard brushed past her, and grit his teeth in a grunt when she caught him by his robes and tugged him back into her proximity. Oh gods. Pink was spreading to his cheeks. 

“Your grip is awful tight,’ he said, squirming. 

“What’s the matter Child?” Morfessa pushed. 

“I’ve never had a talent for expressing myself,” with one twist of his body Luard was out of her hold and heading toward the door 

“They’ve got peach rolls at the Holy Beast piazza,” Morfessa countered, if only to get his attention. Luard was susceptible to sweets, but the prospect of interacting with people was a terrifying one, and Luard was technically still under the chrono jet series’ surveillance. So any venturing close to other individuals he did was to complete Morfessa’s grocery shopping, which she had to force him into doing for the sole purpose of getting him outside at least once throughout the week. 

“That, doesn’t change my mind,” Luard lied straight through his teeth, his tones hard with the effort, and continued his departure, his strut more of a hobble now. 

“Too bad,” Morfessa matched pace with him, “Uscius was heading out that way. I could’ve asked him to get some for you, but since you’re being petulant.’ She broke off, leaving the rest to Luard’s preconceptions. 

“Morfessa,” Luard almost whined. There’s no way he would ask Uscius. Uscius had a passion for poking and prodding at Luard, in both the figurative and physical sense. Something Luard refused to deal with. Though everyone new better than to play games with Lady morfessa. She was just like that. In other words, she was Luard’s only chance. Peach rolls were nigh always out of stock. Were they worth pouring a night’s worth of his heart out? No, he thought not, but ... 

“Nothing else will persuade you?” he tossed a look at her, one of seeping unease and fanciful hope. 

“That’s right,” Morfessa nodded. She had won this one. “If you’d like, we can talk in my room.” Well at the very least she could do him the courtesy of not invading upon his own dwelling chamber. 

“All right,” Luard relented on a sigh. 

“Good boy,” Morfessa pat his shoulder. Luard plumped his lips into a pout. The two made their way to the upper floors of the castle, slipping with little noise into Morfessa’s sizable bedroom. For some reason it had never occurred to Luard that she would be the type to enjoy refinery, but her room was clean and embellished with sumptuous little trinkets such as the multiple embroidered pillows bedecking her bed and the glazed ceramic pots on her oak bookshelf. The curtains were drawn back from the many arched windows lining the walls, letting swaths of bright Sanctuary sunlight filter through the glass, made with a thin lattice framework. Morfessa kicked off her heels and plopped on her bed, leaning back against the mountain of pillows. Luard was less relaxed, his heart a taut knot as he stepped from his heels and approached the bed. His movements were so surreptitious, as though he had kept the thieving skills he had needed to survive as a child, though less so as he fumbled to hoist himself onto the bed. Why was it so high from the ground. 

“So?” Morfessa’s finger caressed the underside of his chin. Luard bit his bottom lip, another ungraceful habit, and stared at the bookshelf. Morfessa had a collection of novels, memoirs, and science and history textbooks. 

“Luard,” she murmured, and it sounded like a coo. Luard felt the vibration, the heat of her words shoot right to him. It was incredible, his name from her lips, and it calmed him. 

“I didn’t sleep much last night,” Luard said, unsure of where to even begin. He wasn’t looking at her. She didn’t approve of that, cupping his chin and guiding his face in her direction. But shit, it was so much harder to do or say anything when those expecting blue eyes of hers were making him feel like a pure bred doofus. 

“Why is that?” she asked, ushering him in the direction they needed to go for this conversation. 

“Well I ...” he sighed, “I’ve been consumed in pain as of late. I can’t seem to get away from the things that hurt me. Somehow, these thoughts ...” his hand pressed to his heart to silence the erratic thudding, “These feelings of mine ... they’re so intense. It’s my intent to disregard them but doing so has proven unreasonably difficult presently.” 

“Hmmm, that means you need to deal with it,” Morfessa said, “Hate to tell it to you, but confronting your emotions is way more effective than ignoring them.” 

“I don’t believe I can do that,” Luard breathed, “I’m not sure that I can handle being exposed, and letting pain eat at my weakness.” 

“Yeah, it’s not exactly fun,” Morfessa said, “But, you don’t have much of an option, do you? After all, it’s healthier to sort out those feelings anyways. It may be painful for a good while but the end result closes the wound, otherwise removing your pain. But you Luard, it sounds like you’re using bandages without the disinfectant and stitching. You’re hiding you’re wounds rather than treating them, and that simply won’t do.” 

“I don’t know how to .... deal with it...” 

“That’s fine,” Morfessa squeezed his shoulder and realized she had slipped into mom mode without even noticing. Her features softened into understanding. “Allow me to inform you Luard. Emotions are one of the only things that can’t always be solved with science, which is why psychology is such a tricky and essential constituent of humanoid society. It’s hard to encapsulate how to work around or through what we feel. Luckily we’ve developed many remedies to at least help with the process. You can start by talking to me.” Her hand snaked down into his own, interlacing their fingers. “What hurts, Luard?” she actually _crooned._

“I-is it wrong of me?” Luard’s hand was limp in hers, and his skin warming with flush, “I still ... even after all this time I ... I think of my brother and ... knowing he’s not with me can ... hurt. I dream of him. His death haunts me even now I .... I can’t shake the memory of that horrible wound on his chest and ... I .. I can’t fathom, why it hurts that he never got to see me grow up fully, that I never got to wrap my arms around him and tell him that I love him before he was taken away from me.” 

“That’s normal,” Morfessa glided her thumb over the back of his palm, “that’s all right. I’ve never had many close relatives but I can only imagine the agony of losing someone who was such an important figure in your life. I imagine you felt like you lost everything.” 

“I did..” Luard was struggling to breathe, his chest and stomach twisting into the most unpleasant of tangles. The cold of last night creeped into his skin, and he shuttered. 

“What else?” Morfessa whispered, her fingers trailing over his wrist. 

“I,” Luard’s eyes stung with tears, “I spent so much time looking for away to avenge him and then ... not only was Shiranui being controlled when he killed my brother but ... he also lost all four of his limbs trying to save me! That’s terrible. Going through all that pain, risking his life, for someone like **me.** I hated him for so long and ....” He burst into sobs. He had not wanted to cry. He hated every aspect of the action, but he couldn’t hold back. His chest was empty, throat welled up with tears, sniffling, eyes shut tight as his tears cracked through his lashes. His hat had toppled off, his body heaving.  


“I, I’ve caused so much trouble,” he whimpered, “I’m not worth near the amount of pain I’ve caused, to my brother, to Shiranui, to you. And I ... I am still so destructive. But i don’t want to be. I don’t want to cause any more trouble. I just don’t know what to do with it all. All this pain I feel. I don’t even have the right to call this suffering.. not after.. after what I’ve put everyone through.” 

“All right, come here,” with a strength oh so fitting to her, Morfessa gathered Luard into her arms and up onto her lap. He crumpled in her embrace, his breaths and sobs coming harder and quicker, as if he believed he didn’t even deserve that. She wouldn’t put it past him. She cradled his head in one hand and stroked mindless shapes down his back with the other. “Good job Luard,” she said, “I know this is a challenge for you.”

Luard hiccuped, his body hitching, and couldn’t bring himself to look at her, despite he wanted to. His heart was still thumping, his stomach still swirling. His head was snug in the crook of her neck, hands clutching the fabric of her clothes and the only thing keeping him grounded. She was warm. The sensation of her fingers carding through his mess of blonde hair was foreign but welcome, and bit by agonizing bit, his body began to settle. He needed this. 

“So, first things first, I think you’re a litle overwhelmed,” Morfessa said, “You’ve got years of pent up emotion and I don’t think you know what to do with it.” She was so calm, and wise. Luard tried to regulate his breathing, bobbing his chin in an agreeing nod. 

“I’m not the best person for this,” Morfessa admitted, more to herself than Luard, “But I can provide my support and opinion. For one, you are worth it, you’re very worth it. You can be more stubborn than myself sometimes so I doubt you’ll come to believe me very soon, but you are indeed worth it. Every smile, every slip up, every in genius discovery of yours, is worth it.”  


Luard made a pejorative little huff, but he was finally beginning to ease.  


“As for your guilt, just answer me one question, is being guilty helping anybody?” 

Luard’s head rocketed up and he jerked back. 

“Will feeling guilty bring your brother back? Will it give Shiranui his limbs back?” 

Luard shook his head. 

“That’s right,” Morfessa pat his cheek, “No amount of penitence will rewrite the past, but you can do the best for them and carve out your future.”

Luard blushed. Leave it to Morfessa to make him feel stupid. She was so logical, so levelheaded, so content. How did she do it?

“Would you like me to hold you a little bit longer?” she cooed. 

“Please,” Luard exhaled, surprised by the desperation in his voice. Her arms came around him in a loving hold. Luard let her pull him closer, his head dipping down under her chin. He closed his eyes and nuzzled deeper, returning her embrace as she caressed his back and massaged through his hair. It would be okay. He told himself that, soaking in her heat, the affection she offered. Dagda was still dead, Shiranui was still maimed, and Luard was still the worst kind of troublemaker, but it’d be okay. He didn’t know how, but she had convinced him that it would. And with that, he drifted into a well needed slumber. 

When he next woke, he was curled on Morfessa’s abundance of pillows and the woman in question was gone. Or at least, she wasn’t in his field of touch any longer. The idea was almost disheartening. He sat up, and through his groggy fog, didn’t spot her in the twilight haze of the room. So it was evening, apricot light misting through the windows. He got to his feet. His nose was aching from the sniffles and snot, eyes unspeakably dry, cheeks a bit sticky from his tears. God he felt disgusting. He also felt like a horrible intruder and hurried from the room. He had the mind to wash up in his own bed chamber, but was intercepted by Morfessa in the hall. She had a bag in her hands. 

“Oh? You’re up?” she raised an eyebrow at him, “I thought you’d sleep a little longer. You really exhausted yourself, getting all worked up like that.” She flicked him. It left a familiar sting on his cheek. She was never able to get his forehead while he had that hat on. 

“I appreciate it Morfessa, what you did for me,” Luard said.

“And you’re about to appreciate me even more,’ Morfessa tossed her bag at him, lips curved in a bare, amused smile. Luard peeked inside, recognizing the pinkish, squishy confections piled together immediately. Peach rolls. He had forgotten he struck that deal with her. 

“Ugh, i don’t know how you eat those things,” she batted the air, “They’re way too sweet.” But Luard had a love of sweets, and really anything edible. Food genuinely was the quickest way to his heart, excluding his fascination with magic and science. He hugged her. 

“Don’t get too comfortable now Cheesecake,” Morfessa reciprocated, “this isn’t up for debate. Whenever you’re feeling bad enough to endanger yourself in the lab, you come straight to me. Are we clear?” 

“Clear,” Luard nodded against her shoulder. 

They spent the rest of the evening outside, against Luard’s wishes, sitting in the courtyard, luard with his peach rolls and a cup of milk tea, morfessa with a champagne glass and a plate of French fries. Luard thought her taste in snack was a perfect exemplum to her personality. In the quiet of summer dusk, they read over a textbook full of old articles. They had both already warn the book out, its pages filled with highlighter and underlinings, dogeared corners and footnotes, but there was always more to learn.

**Author's Note:**

> Luard is such a shortcake, isn’t he?  
> Many thanks for stopping by too.  
> Take care of yourselves, and stay positive! :)


End file.
